The summons came with the stark impersonality of officialdom: a curt message flashing on Ethan’s worn Omni-Slate, ordering his immediate presence at the Ascendant Guild's Westgate Deployment Center. No explanation, no pleasantries, just the unwavering directive that he present himself ready for active duty. He knew what it meant. Shortage. Bad news for everyone, especially someone like him.

Ethan sighed, pushing aside the half-eaten nutrient paste – his breakfast, lunch, and often dinner – and resigned himself to the inevitable. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to scrub away the permanent exhaustion that clung to him like a shroud. He wasn’t a morning person, and the looming threat of a high-level Rift raid did little to improve his mood.

The Deployment Center buzzed with a frenetic energy. Ascendants, a mixed bag of seasoned veterans and nervous rookies, milled about, checking equipment, exchanging anxious glances, and trying to project an air of confidence they probably didn’t feel. The air crackled with barely contained power, the combined aura of individuals blessed (or cursed) with abilities beyond human comprehension. Ethan, as always, felt like an imposter amongst them, a flickering candle in a room full of floodlights.